


His Call

by AcidArrow



Series: Clintasha Week 2016 [1]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton-centric, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Protective Clint Barton, pre-SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidArrow/pseuds/AcidArrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye, was sent to Russia with a single order: to assassinate the operative known as the Black Widow at any cost. However Hawkeye, who has met this particular woman before many years ago, made a different call...</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Call

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon. For Day #1 of Clintasha Week 2016: Beginnings/His Call.  
> Thanks to ~dresupi for Beta-reading.

“You lied to me.”

Clint Barton, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., was fully aware of just how itchy the Black Widow’s trigger finger could get when she was backed into a corner. No spider liked to be trapped within a web they didn’t themselves physically weave. There was a terrifying fraction of a second when his heart leapt into his throat and his mind made its peace with the fact that he might be about to die. Whether the fact that his bow was trained on her at point-blank range was making the situation better, or exacerbating it, he wasn’t entirely sure yet.

_ Okay, this… really doesn’t look good. _

“I didn’t lie to you,” said Clint, with a strength and solidity to his tone he knew he was capable of mustering despite the fact that, internally, he was trembling in fear. Nobody wanted to be in the crosshairs of the Black Widow… not even him. “I never told you I wasn’t with S.H.I.E.L.D., Nat.”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Behind her extended forearm, Natalia’s eyes were dark with rage and narrowed with determination. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? If so, you’re not as intelligent as your American supervisors think you are, and you’re certainly not intelligent enough to survive this assignment they’ve sent you on.”

“Shoot me, I lose my grip,” replied Clint, wiggling the pinkie finger of his draw hand. His muscles ached from the past few days of working with Natalia as her reluctant-assassin turned partner. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him in with very clear instructions: to observe the Black Widow agent until he found the perfect moment to strike, and to take her out. However, setting his eyes upon a woman he had loved when he was young and stupid reminded him that, sadly, he was now  _ old _ and stupid.

“So, it’s your call, Nat. We can both put our weapons down and talk about this like civilized adults, or we can kill each other.”

Natalia’s eyes, green and cold, pierced into his, and for a moment he saw her falter before her resistance reasserted itself. “You’ve already deceived me… why should I trust you?”

“Because I haven’t killed you yet? C’mon… it’s not like I didn’t have the chance.”

If Natalia was anyone other than the Black Widow, his comment -- crude in nature to the both of them -- would’ve caused her to flush. Clint stood his ground, muscular arms bare and bulging beneath the dirty and torn wifebeater, locked in the two-hundred-and-eighty-pound draw pull of his bow. And as he did, he watched her process it, in that way he knew she would -- logic first, pushing aside all emotion, and then when logic dictated one way, she would double-check with her gut and triple-check with her sense of duty. 

Quite frankly, it was the last one that was concerning him the most. He braced himself for the bullet, and focused on his aim. If he was going down, he was taking her with him.

To his surprise, Natalia lowered her weapon, though kept it in her right hand. It could, of course, be a trap… but part of Clint, the part of him that was  _ still _ in love with her after  _ all _ these years, wanted to believe that she was meeting him in the middle here.

“Okay,” he breathed out, his lips curling in as warm a smile as he could manage, but the glare she was giving him made that difficult. “I’m gonna lower this now, ‘kay? And I’m gonna put the arrow down.”

True to his word, Hawkeye slowly sank his aim toward the ground at her feet, gently loosening the taut string and sliding the arrow deeper into its rest in his bow. Steel-blue eyes remained locked with hers the entire time. He was ready to move at a moment’s notice, but that wasn’t how he wanted this face-off to go.

“Cool, okay… okay, we’re chill.” Clint placed the simple arrow on the table beside him, where his quiver had been slung last night when they had returned to the dank little motel room. Natalia was on edge, he could tell -- she hadn’t blinked since she had freed him from her crosshairs.

“D’you want, like… a drink?” 

Natalia pursed her lips. “No, Barton. I want you to talk. Before I listen to my instincts and leave you here with your heart in your mouth.”

The archer released two lungfuls of air in a heavy exhale, his hands flexing around his bow. Where did he even start? The last time he had seen Natalia, he had been a nineteen-year-old kid who had deserted the only family he’d ever known, the circus, and been left for dead by his mentor, Buck Chisholm. He’d been a street performer, a hired hand, full of a wide-eyed wonder for the world and what he could do to help change it for the better. And he was naive, which had made him a perfect target for the Black Widow, who had used the lovesick puppy as a partner-in-crime whilst only partially divulging  _ what _ it was they were doing. 

Until  _ she _ had fallen for him too, in return.

It wasn’t to last, though. The moment Clint had found out that Natalia was using him, he had abandoned her, disappeared in the middle of the night never to be seen again. Until he had showed up in Stavropol several days ago, and the two had reunited. Natalia had admitted that she had presumed her enemies came in the night and took him, and that he was long dead. Clint had been shocked to hear she had spent two years actively looking for him before reluctantly giving up.

Apparently, losing the one man she had ever opened up to enough that she could feel some form of love had only made the Black Widow colder.

“I work for an American intelligence and counterterrorism agency,” explained Clint, standing as still as he could to avoid triggering her finely-honed instincts in any way. “We’re called S.H.I.E.L.D.--”

“I’ve heard of them,” Natalia said curtly. “They’ve killed several of our agents.”

“Yeah, we have.” Clint didn’t deny it, there was no point. “And as you’ve probably guessed, because you’re not a futzing idiot, I was sent here by my handlers to kill you. But… I’m not gonna do that, Nat. I can’t.”

Natalia’s lips twisted in the faintest ghost of a smirk, a very dangerous expression to be on the receiving end of. “And why’s that?”

The blonde man averted his gaze for the first time, dropping his eyes quickly to his feet, and back up again. Looking at her like this, it was… painful. 

“I spent years lying awake at night after I left you,” he finally said, his voice strained and obviously full of pain, “wondering what the  _ hell _ could ever possess someone to be able to… to  _ kill _ like that. That ruthlessly… you never felt a thing. I didn’t understand it, I… I was young, stupid? I felt like I owed something to my country. So I signed up.”

Natalia would’ve raised an eyebrow if the circumstances had been less tense. “Military?”

“Yeah. I know, me. I never made it through basic training, though. S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled me as soon as they saw my aptitude tests, and offered to train me for a badge. They promised I would have the opportunity to change the world for… for the better.”

“That might be the opinion of an American agency--”

“Nat, I know you’re not happy.” Clint’s jaw was tight and his eyes were narrowed confidently, filled with both bravery  _ and _ fear, as Natalia’s face softened a little with surprise at his words. “And I’ve seen… Nat, I’ve been looking into this shit, okay? Since I’ve been here, I’ve followed some leads. I’ve gone through your shit. And yeah, you didn’t catch me, so I guess I’m not the stupid kid I used to be.”

Natalia’s eyes widened when Clint next spoke, his words sending her into something of a trance.

“Nat, I  _ know _ what they did to you in the Red Room.”

For the first time since she had drawn her gun on the traitor, Natalia’s line of sight broke away from her former lover. She couldn’t help it. Clint knew, he had  _ watched _ her fight to hide it from him now that he had returned, what she was… and he  _ knew _ she wasn’t happy. He knew her well enough for that, even after all these years. After a few long, drawn-out moments of absolute silence, Clint spoke again. And when he did, his tone was soft, warm, and almost  _ loving _ , if one dared to believe it. Which neither of them did.

“Natalia, we can help you. S.H.I.E.L.D.? We can help you through this. We can give you your freedom, I promise you. But… you _ have _ to trust me. You  _ have _ to come in.” 

The agent didn’t breathe; not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving his head spinning and his knees and elbows weak. 

He briefly counted his blessings that he had survived this long into the conversation.

“You  _ have _ to come with me, Nat.  _ Please _ .”

* * *

“Easy…  _ hey _ ! I fuckin’ said  _ easy _ , didn’t I!?”

The end of Clint’s bow bashed into the side of the agent’s helmet, knocking his head clean to one side, after the man had shoved Natalia a little harder than Clint would’ve liked toward the chopper. The propellers churned in circles, kicking up a wild wind that tousled and threw the Russian woman’s raven-black locks across her face as she turned back to look at the archer.

Clint had never seen so much fear in her eyes before. It was… unnerving.

“I’ll take it.”

“Agent Bar--”

“I’ll  _ take _ it,” repeated Clint, a more firm order this time, and he waited for the sub-ranking agent to stumble back away from Natalia’s arm so that he could put a gloved hand on her shoulder, squeezing through the leather of her jacket. Their eyes met, and for the first time ever, his demeanour was the more dominant one. He put his other hand on hers, which were handcuffed in front of her, and spoke in a tone that only she would be able to hear over the roar of the chopper above them.

“I promise you, Nat… I can’t see the future, I don’t know how this is gonna go. But I promise, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“You’d better not, Barton,” she shot back, and although both of them knew she had absolutely zero power in this situation, she forced out a knowing grin and her eyes flickered up to his, sparkling with danger.

“For  _ both _ of our sakes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr!  
> [~acidarrowguy](http://acidarrowguy.tumblr.com)


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